The first signs
by NotQuiteBerserk
Summary: Morgana finally has everything she ever dreamed of... doesn't she? Oneshot. No slash or other romance. T for small mention of blood.


**This was inspired by a conversation with **_jedichild_** (so it is therefore dedicated to you) in which the problems with thinking about something so hard you believe it to have become true were raised. Also a possible crossover where Balinor was actually Eragon before he changed his name was brought up, but neither of us can be bothered to write it as we would probably have to reread the books and I for one have better things to do. If anyone would like to write it you would have to ask **_jedichild_** as it was her idea.**

**Disclaimer: someone told me that I didn't own Merlin, I was dead disappointed.**

**This was rated T because of imaginary blood, sorry, I got a bit carried away :-/**

It was hers. It was all hers, after all this time she had finally overthrown that tyrant and Camelot was hers to command. She felt her lips curl into a smirk at the thought that she had outwitted her useless, self-obsessed brother and his deceitful, treacherous manservant, those two did not even deserve to be named, and the _commoners_ that the fool had knighted – well they hardly deserved her notice.

It had been so easy after all this, it was as if the throne had been waiting for her return, as though she and she alone deserved to sit in the ornate chair, with the crown that fitted her so perfectly resting delicately on her mahogany locks. She was the very picture of power and beauty. She always had been perfect for the position and now it was at long last in her grasp.

It wasn't until she heard the echoing peals of magnificent joy resounding back at her from the marble pillars of Camelot's greatest hall that she realised she was laughing with the relief that her people, her kin would finally be able to enjoy a fair and just existence – once she had eradicated all the non-magical people of course.

.❃.❂.❃.

It was the insane cackle that first drew Arthur to the throne room, a sound that he had long associated with the numerous insane evil people that had tried to take over the kingdom in recent years (alright, every year he had been old enough to remember), naturally he was running, with a possible threat to the kingdom there was no time to summon the support of his knights, or even the guards. He would be on his own facing whoever was behind that door.

Tentatively he stretched his hand out to the handle, turning it with the unlimited caution of a man who had no idea if he would live once the door was open, he braced himself expecting to see an army of who knows what and several of his best knights dead but what he found was…

"Morgana?" she was standing in the dead centre of the room, the royal crown placed lopsidedly on her unkempt hair, her dress torn and her face and hands smudged with dirt.

"Arthur… How…? What…? How are you alive?" She stuttered incomprehension smeared across her features. She had killed Arthur she knew she had. She has seen her knife pierce his arrogant throat, she had smiled as his blood, hot and thick and delightfully red trickle down her arm and drip to the flood in delicious rivulets. Hadn't she?

Of course she was not the only one looking nonplussed, Arthur was also utterly confused, why on Earth was he supposed to be dead? He was certain he hadn't been killed, he would have remembered. "Morgana, you're not making sense, why are you here, you're supposed to be away plotting our downfall with Morgouse, we're not due another attack from you for another month."

"But – But I saw you die, and Merlin and our father, it was a glorious battle in which we gallantly defeated the oppressive army of Camelot."

"When was this?"

"Just now."

"Are you sure? You have been under a lot of stress recently, maybe you just thought _really_ hard about taking over Camelot and-"

"I am _not_ delusional!" she screamed, her anger flaring, not so much because Arthur had dared suggest that she was not completely sane, but because he might just be right. There was after all a distinct lack of dead bodies lying around. "I think I'm just going to go now" she said in a more normal ('normal' is a relative term) tone and tried and failed to look nonchalant as she removed the crown and tossed it aside. In a feeble attempt to appear dark and dramatic again she added "We shall meet again Arthur Pendragon!" before gathering the shadows of the room to her bidding and disappearing from sight.

But not quite before Arthur had shouted after her "I've got you booked in for the fifteenth!"

He watched his half-sister vanish and turned away with a sigh, what was the point in having a schedule if his enemies never adhered to it? Had Morgana not _heard_ about appointments?


End file.
